


Extracurricular Activities

by Campernetics



Series: Subpar Gwenvid porn for porn's sake [2]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Edging, F/M, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, briefly, david topping for once, gwen is a bratty bottom about it too, this is just so much porn, uno is involved but you'll need to read to find out how
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 09:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Campernetics/pseuds/Campernetics
Summary: Gwen pulls a mean stunt on David, and David's competitive streak decides to pay her back. Gwen's pretty sure she can handle whatever he can throw at her... mostly.





	Extracurricular Activities

**Author's Note:**

> This ooc trash has been hanging around my porn folder for so long and I've grown to despise it, but forestwater finally bullied me into posting it, so you can thank her or curse her at your leisure.

"David, Nerris won't give me back my wand!"

'"It's not your wand, Harrison, it's Mr. Butterscotch's wizard staff!"

Gwen nudges David away from her shoulder, grinning, and he lifts his head. "Wh- what? Oh. Um, Harrison, give it back."

Harrison gapes. "She stole it from _me!"_

"Then Nerris, give it back. Please." He smiles at them, but it's a little distant, wavering. "Stealing is a- h hh very wrong thing to do, okay?"

"It's just plastic," Nerris mumbles, and Harrison crosses his arms. "He can just use a twig."

"You use the twig! I need my wand!"

David drops a hand to the table, harder than he'd meant to, and the kids jump at the sudden noise. David winces and tries to paste on an even wider smile.

"Alright, well, I think we've solved this one, right, guys? Nerris, give Harrison his wand back, it belongs to him. I thought..." He trails off for a second, biting the tip of his tongue before focusing back on them with a weak laugh. "I thought you were a good sorceress. Y- yourrrr, ngh, ah-lignment? Right? Weren't you good or something?"

Nerris' shoulders droop. "Yeah... _Fine_. I'll give you your dumb wand back."

"Great!" David cheers, a little strained and higher than usual. "Now, both of you, go- go eat lunch or play outside! Far away! Please?" His fingers curl into fists on the table, and his smile is all teeth.

Harrison follows a sulking Nerris out through the door of the mess hall, joining the other handful of campers who've finished lunch early. The rest are still _wonderfully present._

As soon as they're out of earshot, David turns his head. "What were you _thinking?"_ he hisses at his smug co-counselor. "They could've s- ssseen something, or- or heard-!"

"I'll tell you what I was thinking," Gwen hums, leaning against her unoccupied hand. "I was thinking that if we were alone, I would already have you down my throat."

David's shoulders ratchet tighter so sharply Gwen can almost hear them click. "Don't," he says, but she's not sure if it's a warning or a plea. Both, maybe.

She grins. She doesn't dare kiss him, not right now- kids can be vicious little creatures, and she doesn't need them running home and telling their parents about how their counselors made out all summer. So she knocks her shoulder to his and laughs, swiping her fingers over his frenulum.

"I am really, really not ha-hppy about this, Gwen," he forces out through gritted teeth.

"Oh?"

"I told you not to."

"Did you? Then why am I sitting here with my hand around your dick?"

"Because you're a bad person?" he snipes underneath his breath, his head turning away. She stills her hand.

"Scuse?"

David groans, his head tipping forward. "I mean- you're not a bad person, not really! But..." He turns back her shoulder, tucking in against it to lean on her. "You're _mean."_

"I try." She perks up. "Oh, my! Looks like there's some kids who need counseling coming our way, brother David!"

 _“I take it back, you're a bad person, you're the devil-_ Howdy, kids! What can I h- help you with?" He smiles, straightening up.

The trio of trouble. Of course. Specifically, Nikki.

David keeps a steady smile as she hops onto the bench, taking a seat and threading her fingers together in a business-like manner David would find adorable any other time. The other two flank her like miniature bodyguards, or maybe smaller-than-average business associates.

"Alright. David. Gwen. You both know why I'm here."

David's smile begins to falter. He looks at Gwen, and she shrugs, that half smirk still on her face. She's not stopping, but for the moment she's given him the small mercy of slowing down. "Is something wrong?" he asks, trying his best to put forward a kind, "you can count on me I'm definitely not engaged in wildly inappropriate behaviour" manner.

Nikki leans forward, smacking the table with a small fist. "Desserts, David! The sweet stuff! Don't play coy with me!" His eyes flick over to the empty trays they've left behind, scraped-out pudding cups included. Nikki snaps her fingers in front of his face. "That's the past, we're in the future now. And the future is us getting more pudding!"

David glances at Gwen, then back at the kids. "You guys-" His breath hitches as, without warning, Gwen's fingers tighten, for no other reason he can see than just to mess with him. He clears his throat. "You guys know it's one per meal. Nnnno more."

Nikki sighs, inspecting her nails. "I knew you'd say that. That's why I brought backup."

"More pudding and we'll take down the traps," Max grunts beside her, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Wait, what traps?" Gwen asks, frowning.

"You don't need to worry about that," Nikki glibly assures her.

David groans, and to the untrained camper eye it'd just be frustration over some irritating kids. Gwen's pretty sure it's cause she's circling his frenulum slowly but mercilessly. "K- kids, it wouldn't be fair to the other campers. I ca- ahn't do that," he manages, impressively even.

Nikki sighs. "Come on, we know we're your favourites! We won't tell anyone. It'll be just between us! An under the table kinda deal!"

Gwen has to turn away, pressing a hand to her mouth because Nikki's choice of words might be the best thing that's happened all summer. Max glances at her, and then at the way David's mouth has compressed into a very thin, blank line.

He shakes his head. "No...t. Not right now. But, ask again at dinner, a- ah nd maybe."

Nikki narrows her eyes, and looks at the boys on either side of her. Neil doesn't say anything, and Max shrugs. "Well... okay. But we'll be back," she warns, hopping down from the table.

Once they're gone, Gwen snorts. "Are you really gonna give them extra dessert just to leave us alone?"

"Gwen, right now I would offer every kid in this camp extra dessert to leave." He leans his elbows on the table, resting his forehead in the heels of his hands, fingers in his hair.

A moment passes. Then another. A whole collection of them, in fact.

"Gwen?"

"Yes, David?"

"The kids are gone."

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you gonna...?" His eyes flick downward meaningfully, and she knows what he's talking about. She slowed down when the kids came over, but she's yet to speed back up. Easy, unhurried strokes don't seem to be doing it for him anymore, though.

"What could I be doing that I'm not already?"

He sighs, bitter frustration underlying. "Going faster?"

She raises her eyebrows. "But wouldn't that be inappropriate?" The look David gives her is so wide eyed, so wrought with disbelief and irritation that she has to bite back a laugh. She checks her phone. "Oh, y'know, we should probably put a pin in this. Lunch is almost over." Her fingers loosen, deliberately slow, and David shakes his head.

"Nope." His own hand joins hers, fingers wrapping overtop of her own and tightening. "You don't _put a pin in this_. I'm not letting you do that to me _again,"_ he seethes. "Last time was..." He breaks off in a shudder and hunches forward, forcing her fingers to stroke him from the head to the base, the motions tight and jerky.

She grins, leaning forward to talk right beside his ear. For a moment she just breathes, and he flinches. She can see the hair on the back of his neck prickling. "Counselor David, shame on you," she chuckles. "Using your coworker’s hand to make yourself come in a public place like this."

"You are," he quietly pants, "the worst person, I have ever met. You're _cruel_ , and _mean_ , and I've had _enough_ for today. We're getting this over with."

"You make it sound like this is a punishment."

"It feels like one," he breathes. His shoulders are trembling, just slightly. She gives no resistance and no participation, her eyes half-shut as she revels in the warmth of his fingers over hers and his heartbeat in her palm.

His strokes turn harsher, more punishing as the room is filled with the cacophony of benches being pushed back, trays being deposited where trays go, campers chatting to each other. A few minutes, at the most. He can make it, he's sure.

He hangs his head, exhaling in choked mutters that Gwen leans closer to hear. "Close- _come on_ , almost-there- ffffahh h-" His hips are tilting upward, the closest he'll allow himself to get to thrusting, given the situation.

She leans a little closer, breathes on the shell of his ear. "Time's nearly up, Mr. Greenwood."

David grits his teeth, his eyes screwing shut with a guttural moan resonating in the back of his throat. Words seem beyond him, and she knows he's seconds away. So she tightens her fingers.

He does buck, then, just once. One press of his hips into the tight ring of her fingers, his own rushing to make sure his mess doesn't end up on the underside of the table. He's pushed hard against her for a few trembling, pulsing seconds before he slowly melts back into his seat.

Silently, Gwen passes him the napkin from her tray. David spares her a tired, grateful glance and cleans his hand off before tucking himself away. She smiles genially at him, and he smooths his hair back.

"You're an amazing co-counselor and a terrible, horrible girlfriend, Gwen Santos," he mutters, balling the napkin up and then rolling it inside his own for good measure.

"I thought I was pretty good," she grins, leaning against him. "Made _you_ come hard."

"I had to do that myself, thank you. You just made it... inescapable."

"Aww, thanks."

He pouts. "Bad people don't get thanks. They get..." He looks around the room, his eyes landing on a discarded pudding cup. His face lights up. "They get their _just desserts!"_

Gwen groans. "For that, you don't deserve the amazing handjob I just gave you."

He grins, winding a hand around her waist. "But seriously," he laughs, and his voice lowers but doesn't lose that cheery tone. "I'm in charge tonight."

She grins, refusing to let him see the way her skin prickles with addictive warmth. "Big words. You think you're up to the task?"

His fingers grip her side tighter, nails just shy of digging in. "Oh, Gwen!" he chuckles, like she'd just made a very family-friendly joke. "You're going to beg."

She has to stop and recover from that for a split second. "As if," she snorts.

David smiles at her with all the loving warmth of a sunbeam, and if she hadn't been looking for it, Gwen might have missed the dark, competitive spark in his eye. "Wanna bet?"

 

* * *

 

It was only lunch when Gwen's evening plans were set in stone, so she still had a entire ten hours to wait, at _least_. It'd be fine if David wasn't so unnervingly chipper. He doesn't make a single reference to it all day, not even a barely PG glance when the kids aren't looking, and Gwen's beginning to wonder. Either he's forgotten (entirely likely, he's got a memory like a steel trap with some massive holes for what Gwen feels like should sometimes just be common sense) or he's... planning.

He treats her with the normal affection. Quick squeezes of her hand when he can, a kiss on the cheek out of any wandering camper's eyesights.

At dinner, she considers messing with him, but there's a tinge of apprehension in her gut that says maybe not this time, specifically. She doesn't need to remind him of his little bet. There is one moment, when he surreptitiously slips Nikki a couple of extra pudding cups her her and the boys with a resigned look on his face. As Nikki struts away, he glances back at Gwen, the look on his face a mix between thoughtful and dark, but before she can even begin to figure it out David's already looking away.

Afterwards, David sticks around to help clear out the mess hall, and Gwen quickly ducks to the cabin to check that her vibrator's on charge, because she's pretty positive she left it shoved somewhere in her bed and she has a feeling that whether or not David acts tonight, she's gonna want to use it.

She pulls her messily-made blankets back, searching for the little pink toy, and frowns. Turning her head, though, she spots it, sitting in the little charging cradle on her bedside table, the tiny light on the base glowing green.

It's... already on there.

And it must have been for at least two hours or so, to be fully charged already. So either Gwen already put it on and forgot, or....

She shrugs, tugging the blankets back into a vaguely made-looking status. Whatever. If it's charged, it's charged.

She integrates back into camp society, which in this and every case means standing in the background of whatever _fun_ thing David's chosen for after dinner. Apparently tonight is optional free time, which the kids usually choose, and a widescale game of Uno on the mess hall, which two thirds of the kids descend upon with killer-like instincts cause who doesn't love Uno?

Gwen actually joins. Uno's not bad, and it's one of the games David can actually be riled up by. She's warned him not to play, but somehow it always boils down to him and a few other kids, glaring at each other and slamming down skip cards.

She tags out pretty soon, pushing her cards back into the bottom of the deck and resting her chin in her hand to watch David. If it weren't for the setting, it'd be kinda hot, cause the face he's making is... intense? He's certainly not pulling any punches with the kids, biting his lip to stifle his grin as he adds to Space Kid's growing hand with a draw four.

He only glances at Gwen once the entire game, when it's down to just him and Harrison, but when he does, it's with the same dark, competitive look from earlier. Her stomach flips and she looks down, busying herself with gathering up the discarded cards from the kids who'd fallen victim to David's ruthless Uno-ing and given up.

She's tempted to leave before the game is over, but they're down to the wire, anyway, and David's watching Harrison like shark sizing up prey. The guy really doesn't know when to quit sometimes. It's fucking Uno. She's just glad he didn't bet the cabin this time. She and a few of the other kids settle in to watch, and as action packed as the next few minutes are, they're ... a few minutes. Uno isn't a long game.

"I'm changing it to... red?" Harrison says, his voice unsure as he puts down a wild card.

David makes an exaggerated frown. "Oh, I don't have any red cards. Well," he shrugs, chuckling lightly, "maybe _one."_ He tosses down a red skip. "Oh, and-" a blue skip. "My turn _again_. Well, I've only got one card left, so, uh, uno!" He toys with it in his fingers. "It's not blue, though..."

Harrison almost looks relieved before David sets the card on the pile. It's a wild draw four, and he looks up at David with defeated betrayal. David beams back. A couple of the other kids laugh. Gwen forces herself not to smile, because she should set an example of good sportsmanship since apparently David's not going to.

Harrison leaves in a cloud of four-coloured shame and David begins to tidy the cards away. "Aw, buddy, you'll win next time for sure," he calls towards the kid as he leaves. "It'll be fun!"

Gwen doubts anyone's challenging David to a rematch anytime soon.

The other kids slowly filter away, and Gwen hands him the quarter of the pack she's already gathered. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"

He chuckles, tapping the cards against his palm to straighten them out. "I just played by the rules."

"You were pretty damn smug about beating a ten year old, though. For a grown man. Coulda gone easy on him."

David shrugs. "I think he had fun. I guess I couldn't really help myself. It's just that kind of night," he hums, standing up to put the cards back in one of the kitchen cabinets.

"What does _that_ mean?"

David shrugs again, the smile on his face strange and indecipherable in a way that makes Gwen nervous. "Well!" He checks his watch. "Another hour and we can get the campers ready for bed!" He takes a step closer, reaching for her wrists. "Thank you for playing with me," he hums softly, leaning forward to brush his nose against hers. "I'm sorry Ered kept using those draw cards on you."

"Well, I was sitting right next to her. You would've done it to me too, don't act all high and mighty."

He laughs, nuzzling her in a sickly sweet way she hates seeing other people do and can't help loving when it's done to her. "No mercy!"

It's a joke, of course it is, and his tone is light and playful, but... "Hm."

"Yeah?"

"Nothing. That thing you said."

"What? No mercy?" She makes a noise which means _yes, but I can't physically bring myself to admit it._ David beams, tracing circles on her wrists with his thumbs. "Good to know."

 _"Shut up."_ She turns her head to the side, grimacing, and David presses a fleeting kiss to the side of her throat before pulling back.

"Why don't we start getting the campers settled?"

She tugs his wrist up to look at his watch. "It's a little early, isn't it?"

"Kids need rest!"

Even with an early start, it takes the two of them almost an hour to corral the kids into their tents. Nikki proves to be the most troublesome, clambering into a tree and hissing at Gwen, throwing ineffective leaves and slightly more effective sticks at her. Gwen gives up and points David in her direction. David manages to bribe her down eventually, with the extra dessert he deprived her of and a small lock of his hair, which Gwen finds very worrying but according to David, Nikki said it was for a craft project. She seemed set that it had to be David's hair. Gwen makes a mental note to chase that up, because they no longer run occult camp for a reason.

When she's done assuring Space Kid there's no bad energy coming from space (a worry, for him, that's seemingly sprung from nowhere) Gwen is finally free to retreat to her cabin. David, as always, is slower to appear. She tenses up slightly as he enters the cabin, humming quietly to himself. He walks past her, curled in her chair, and straight into their tiny what-passes-for-a-bathroom. She tilts her head, listening as he... what's he doing? Brushing his teeth? She peers around the edge of the chair, but she can't see him beyond the door frame.

He finishes up and reappears, settling in his own chair beside hers and flicking through his phone.

Should she say something? Was she wrong? Did he actually forget? She kind of wants to say something. But what if he's tired? She doesn't wanna seem too pushy.

He smiles at something on his phone, and she takes a deep, slow breath through her nose, suddenly feeling stupid for the way her heart is racing.

She keeps glancing at him. He's just so- so _nonchalant_. The only _hint_ that there might be anything on his mind is the subtle, consistent bouncing of his leg, but he does that sometimes for no reason, too. He doesn't even look up from his phone until it chimes, and she jumps.

"Lights out!" He smiles, stretching. "I'm gonna go make sure the kids get to sleep."

"Right. Uh, hey, can you check the kids? Like, Max and Nikki's tents, I mean. That lock of hair thing has me a little uneasy, so..."

"What could they possibly do with some hair?" David laughs. "But sure. I'll be back soon!"

He leaves, and Gwen releases a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

He returns twenty minutes later with his trademark smile and something in his hand. "I found this in Max's tent. I think you may have been onto something."

He tosses it to her and it lands in her lap. She picks it up and looks it over. It's crude, human shaped, and made of plain brown canvas that looks suspiciously like tent. She's going to have to check for holes in the campers tents, isn't she? An off-center little mouth and X eyes are stitched on the head, and that lock of David's hair is pinned to the chest. "Is this a voodoo doll?"

"Looks like it. I haven't seen one of those since-"

"That Taylor kid?"

"Yes!" David grins, sitting down. "I wonder if she's still doing that."

"She'd be in highschool now, right? Probably trying to voodoo her teachers now instead of us."

"I hope not!"

"It's not like it works," Gwen snorts. "If it did I'd be fucking with you a whole lot more." She pokes the doll on its front, pouting when the touch doesn't transcend the barriers of reality to jab David in the chest. "Dunno if I could suck off a doll, though."

"I'm sure if voodoo worked, very little would stand in your way.”

Gwen smirks, tossing him the doll. "Get rid of that and I'll talk to Max tomorrow."

"You don't want me to do it?"

"Let me rephrase. I'm going to yell at Max tomorrow."

"Ah. Right."

She keeps a careful eye on him, but as the clock ticks forward nothing happens. It's so painfully routine, and even still Gwen can't shake the feeling of being on edge. David drifts around the cabin, straightening up and changing into pyjama pants. She'd managed, after a few weeks of being in a relationship with this dweeb, to convince him that he looked a lot better without the dumb pyjama shirt with the bear paw on it, but David put his foot down on taking off any more than that. He even wears the bandana to bed. That, she doesn't mind so much. Gives her a good handhold for pulling him into kisses. Besides, anything's better than sleeping in his uniform.

She sighs, standing up to follow his example. He's watching her as she moves over to her bed, little flickering glances that make sure the tiny spark of hope on her stomach won't die out.

She gives him her best smouldering look before turning toward her bed, tugging the hem of her shirt up in what she hopes is a fluid, seductive way. It's probably not, but by the time it's halfway up her midriff, he's already behind her, hands fluttering over her waist.

"Need any help?" he asks quietly, and Gwen smiles, letting his hands replace hers on the hem of her shirt.

"You had me thinking you weren't gonna make a move tonight,” she admits as he pulls the fabric up and over her head.

David gives a soft laugh. "Of course I was."

She stretches her arms above her, his palms sliding along the skin as he pushes the fabric up, over her hands, tossing it to the side. His hands settle back on her shoulders as she lowers her arms, leaning back into his chest. "What took you so long?"

Slowly, his hands slide down, fingers circling loosely around her wrists as he gently kisses her just beneath her ear, a spot that always makes her shiver. "Well, I had to make sure the campers were asleep," he hums. "I don't want any of them hearing."

"You smooth motherfucker." She senses his grin behind her.

"Thank you!" He ducks his head, pressing a soft, suckling kiss to the side of her throat, and Gwen tips her head to the side with a satisfied noise. He's tactical, pressing his mouth to every spot that makes her weak and moving to the next before it can become too desensitised. She doesn't realise it's a distraction technique till her wrists are already behind her.

He holds them both together, gentle, but she knows if she tried to break free he could easily keep her there. She turns her head. "You _smooth_ mother _fucker_."

David grins at her. "It's only smooth because I've been planning this allllll day," he breathes against the back of her neck, and she shivers. Fabric brushes against her wrists, circling around them and tightening, and she cranes her head to look over her shoulder.

"Is that your bandana?" He pulls the knot taut and says nothing. It definitely is, because it's no longer around his throat, and she can catch a glimpse of the yellow tails poking upward. "So all day, huh?" she asks, facing front.

"Well, since lunch."

"I figured you might have forgotten."

"How could I forget _that?"_ He takes hold of her waist and gently squeezes. "I told you I was going to get you back."

"No, you said you'd make me beg."

"Same thing." His front presses to her back, bare skin blazing hot against hers. Her own furnace. His arms curve forward, around her, plucking at the button of her shorts and dragging the zip down. He shifts forward, presses closer to her, and her breath catches as she feels a hardness pressed to her ass. Half of her is surprised he's already that hard, and half of her is echoing the sentiment. The lower half, specifically.

She tries to shift her wrists where they're pinned between them, tries to reach down and touch, but one of his hands pulls them right back up.

"Not now." He pushes her shorts a few inches down her hips and walks his fingers across the waistband of her underwear. "Now is Gwen time!"

"Oh, _boy."_

He draws a circle, then a heart, then a star in the space below her belly button, the stretch of skin that's horrifically sensitive to that kind of light touch. It makes the muscles of her stomach twitch. "You don't sound excited!"

"I… I'm kinda just messing with you. I've actually been waiting for this for hours," she admits.

"Really?"

Oh, the smug tone to his voice makes her wanna _bite_. She regrets letting her guard down for even one goddamn second. "Don't push your luck," she growls.

"That's not pushing luck. Pushing luck would be more like touching your partner in a crowded mess hall." He dips his fingertips beneath the elastic, brushing curls as he moves down. "But you know what? I'm over it. I'm not mad anymore. Because now I've got _you!_ And because I'm not evil, at least I won't make you beg in the corner of that crowded mess hall!"

Gwen rolls her eyes. "Oh, stop whining. You got off, didn't you?"

"Maybe. But it was really rushed," he complains, petulant. "And I know you love that. But sometimes I wanna go slow! So," He draws his fingers through her curls, avoiding anywhere that actually needs the touch. "We're going slow. We have all night."

"You won't hold out."

 _"Sure_ , Gwen."

"Hey- _hey_. Sarcasm is _my_ thing."

David laughs. "Where do you think I learned it?"

"Well unlearn it, it's mine!" David just laughs, nuzzling against the back of her throat. "You won't hold out," she repeats in a smug murmur. She rolls her hips back, grinding a slow circle against him. "That would be mean, _sir."_

David releases a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against her shoulder. "I can't say calling me that isn't going to really work in your favour, but please, Gwen. Give me some credit."

"Please, David. Give _me_ some. _Please."_ She rolls her hips back again, and David moves his hands to them, holding her still.

"Stop that," he mutters. "I'm not letting you take this out from under me again."

Gwen bites the end of her tongue to keep the smirk down. "Sorry, sir. I just wanted to help so badly."

David's silent for a moment, his breathing just a little more laboured than usual. He turns his head, drags his mouth against her throat, just breathing. "You remember your safe words?"

She tilts her head to give him more room. "Isn't that usually my line?"

David takes hold of her shoulders, turning her to face him and then turning them both so their positions are reversed. He sits down on her bed, pulling her closer by the belt loops of her shorts.

She smirks, climbing into his lap and straddling it with his hands on her waist to steady her. "You always like having tied up girls in your lap, Mr. Greenwood?"

He smiles, looking up at her. His face is already flushed red, but there's not an ounce of hesitation, not like there used to be. "You always tell me to be more selfish, and, well, I just love when you do this!"

"What? Sit in your lap or sass you?"

"Both," he admits, fingers fluttering up and down her sides. "But- do you remember that first day, after we kissed, and we were watching something and you got up and- and sat like this on me?"

"Sure do. You looked about as ready to faint as I felt."

"Mm," he nods. "It caught me by surprise! Really, really by surprise. I mean, I-" He bites his lip, his voice turning sheepish. "I had _dreams_ about it."

"You didn't tell me that," she says, squinting. "How come you never told me that?"

He shrugs. "I thought you'd be weirded out. I feel like I know a little better now, though."

"You hadn't already figured out what a freak I am from the books?"

"Well, yes, but... I don't know, I was nervous! I mean, you remember how I kept trying to push you back a bit?"

"Yeah?"

"Y- you know why, right?"

She nods. "Obviously."

He winds his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. "I was too nervous to do anything, but you know what I wanted to do?" Gwen makes a curious noise, turning her head slightly so her nose brushed his hair and taking a slow breath. "I wanted this." Slowly, David rocks his hips up, hardness rutting against her cunt with only their clothes keeping them apart. It knocks the wind from her, leaves her a little breathless.

"Wow." Her voice wavers, just a bit, and tries again. "Come on, that's not fair." Maybe it should have occurred to her before she taunted him that David does in fact have an encyclopedic knowledge of everything that makes her weak. Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned how much it kills her to be used like that. David's not normally the type to do anything that could classify as "using," but this is... pretty close.

She practically feels his grin, warmth against her collarbone she's sure she's imagining. "Just being honest."

"Fuck off." And there goes her weird arousal defense mechanism.

David goes still. "Oh." He leans back slightly, false contrition on his face. "Well, okay." His arms hook around her thighs from underneath, and he stands up.

"Hey- wait-" He turns around and sets her down on the bed, flopping down onto his back beside her with a sigh. She blinks at him. "The fuck?"

He gives her a look out of the corner of his eye and then inspects his nails in the most classic dismissal move. "Sorry, I thought you told me to get lost. Obviously you're not in the mood for this. Unless I somehow misheard."

"First of all, I didn't say get lost, I said _fuck off."_ A little awkwardly, she gets to her knees, turning towards him. "Secondly, you know that doesn't mean I want you to leave, you petty bitch." She shuffles over to him, manoeuvring herself till she's straddling him again. "If you back out now, I'm going to burn this camp down with a molotov cocktail and I'll use your stupid bandana as the fuse."

He meets her eyes for a moment before his gaze travels down, resting appreciatively on her chest. "Hm. Maybe I just misunderstood." She opens her mouth to tell him to go fuck himself with the bad end of a pine tree, but shuts it again, scowling. He takes hold of her hips. His fingers are shockingly warm, the way they always are. "Well, then, if you don't mind!" Biting his lip with an expression that's smug enough to make Gwen want to throttle him, David rolls his hips upward.

Gwen breathes out, glaring at the wall. A heavy warmth settles in beneath her stomach, a weight comprised of arousal that's almost uncomfortable. It's like a megaphone to the feeling of being empty, of missing something vital.

His movements are slow, deliberate. It's different from other times, from the moments where she's the one who's been winding him up and he's just clinging to her for the ride, desperation infecting the snapping movements of his hips. This is slow, teasing, dripping with the kind of in-control smugness that's normally Gwen's territory.

She rocks her hips down hard. A vindictive grin curls her mouth as his body stutters, his rhythm thrown off. He's a little puppy who just learned how to yap, but the moment she actually gets in his face he'll back down, whimpering.

But then... he relaxes. That smarmy twitch upward at the corners of his mouth is back, and she narrows her eyes. "Love that enthusiasm," he beams. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself!"

She grits her teeth, trying to think up any possible way to say _No, I'm trying to fuck_ you _up_ without it coming across as childish and petty.

So, fine. She won't move. She'll sit there with a bored expression on her face until David breaks and admits he needs to fuck her.

David presses up into her again, and she ignores the fresh wave of aching that hits her.

Again. Again. She loses count. She forgot to keep it in the first place, really. Without really thinking about it, without even noticing it, Gwen's ability to keep fully upright is waning. She's drooping, curving forward, her head hanging, her eyes half shut and unseeing anyway. She forgets to keep the bored expression. It's just really, horrifically distracting, the way he's rutting against her. Each wave of the teasing ache chips at her sense of mindfulness, hazing her thoughts with arousal.

Her hands twitch, instinct trying to get her to touch herself, get _some_ kind of pressure against her clit, but they're stuck behind her, looped together with that fucking bandana. The sudden reminder hits her like missing a step, and she snaps to attention, refocusing on David's face. It's burning red, sweat beading at his hairline, his fringe drooping slightly. He looks almost as unfocused as she was. At least that's one little victory. He can't be far off begging, right?

More waiting, more movement. His thrusts are definitely a little sharper, and Gwen would count this as a victory if it wasn't like flint to steel inside her, sparks shooting down her legs, up through her stomach.

He makes a noise, a little louder and more distinctive than his heaving breaths. Like a low, quiet grunt of effort, his head tilting back slightly, and something in her just snaps.

"Jesus _Christ_. Is this all? Seriously? We're just gonna do fucking... dry-humping? All night? Are you fucking kidding me?"

David pauses, looking up at her.

He smiles.

He lifts himself into one elbow, the other hand reaching up to pull her down into a kiss. She resists for a moment, anger keeping her tense, but what's the point? At least it's something different. She melts into it with a sigh. David had been a _terrible_ kisser when they'd first gotten together, but he is nothing if not a quick and enthusiastic learner.

She breaks away with the need to breathe, and David runs his tongue along his teeth. "That's my cue to move on," he chuckles, sitting upright.

She glares. "That's your plan? Bore me to death with dry humping?"

"I don't think you were bored."

"You also think shorts in the fall are a great idea. I don't put much stock in what you think."

The hand gently cupping the back of her neck slips down, fingertips ghosting down her sternum and walking down her stomach. The gentle touches make her twitch. "I could just check," he points out. She glowers.

"Check what."

"Check how bored you were, of course!"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"Well..." His palm flattens against her stomach, fingertips brushing the waistband of her underwear. He slips them down, not pushing underneath the elastic like she'd expected. Muted by the fabric, his hand slides further down into her shorts, and she takes a sharp, unintentional breath when his fingers press against her cunt. She suddenly knows what he's looking for and she hates that he's found it, that his fingers are right against the half-soaked cotton.

"Big deal," she mutters. "My boyfriend humped me and I got wet. Like you aren't dripping, either." She hasn't actually seen it, but she's pretty damn positive that he must be. He always is by now.

He shrugs. "I never said I was bored."

He gently manoeuvres her off of him, onto the bed, and stands up. He darts over to his own bed, gathering up the few pillows he has and bringing them back over. He piles them with Gwen's and gestures to the little nest. "Here!"

With a hand on her lower back, he urges her forward, gently coaxing her to rest her front half against the pillows. She goes willingly, more than ready to fucking _finally_ get some.

He undresses her, his pace unhurried as he pulls her shorts down her hips, leaving her in her underwear and knee-highs for the time being. He likes those, she already knows. (That particular piece of information came about after an event that involved David accidentally blurting out "Can you leave those on?" and merciless teasing from Gwen.) "All comfy?" he asks once she's settled, kneeling between her legs.

"Mm hm." She waits for the bed to creak as David shifts to his knees to start fucking her, but it doesn't come. There's no movement, nothing save for the way his hands are smoothing lazily up and down her thighs.

It took her weeks to get him to the point of confidence where he wouldn't ask permission to touch her ass, and she melts into the cushion as his hands settle on it, gently flexing. "You're so beautiful," he sighs quietly. The warmth in her stomach branches into her chest, fluttering along with her heartbeat. David always says nice things. Not that she minds being called hot, but 'beautiful' has never been a term she used for herself.

"Pffft, it's not that great. Be better if you were inside me," she says, wiggling for emphasis.

David presses a kiss to the skin, near the hem of her underwear. "You have been very patient," he concedes, and Gwen has a little internal celebration as he tugs her underwear aside.

Fingertips drag lightly over her cunt, two of them dipping shallowly inside, and she tries to move back. 'Patient,' right. David makes a little pleased hum that simultaneously makes the butterflies in her chest flutter and makes her want to punch him. Slowly, he pushes two fingers inside her, and Gwen presses her face to the pillow to muffle her low moan. "Fucking finally."

He presses deeper, as far as he can, his fingers curled downward slightly to rub against the front wall of her cunt, dragging over that spot that sparks gratifyingly through her stomach. His other hand keeps a steady grip on her hip as he moves, drawing back to the first knuckle and pressing back in at a pace too leisurely for Gwen to really relax. She gives him a few minutes to redeem himself, but he's slow and steady. That's not gonna win him this race, though, so she rolls herself back against one of his thrusts. For a brief second, it's perfect, just the right amount of force, but then David's hand on her hip tightens.

"Don't move."

She wants to lift herself up, look at him over her shoulder to make sure he sees her glare. "The fuck you mean, don't move? What do you expect me to do when you're ambling along back there like it's a fucking Sunday stroll?"

"If it helps, maybe you can imagine you're in a situation where you're not allowed to move," he suggests pleasantly. "Hey, here's a good one! How about in the mess hall, maybe during a meal? Room's full of campers, some of them try to talk to you, and you have to pretend everything's fine so you. Can't. _Move,"_ he says, his tone devolving into a growl as he emphasises those last few words with thrusts hard enough to knock the breath out of her.

Her fingers curl into fists. "You're really fucked up over that," she says, a husky laugh bubbling out of her. "That's amazing."

"Maybe I am, Gwen, maybe just a _little,"_ he mutters, dragging the pads of his fingertips against her insides with that same teasing pressure.

"You said you weren't mad." She grins. "But you don't sound too happy."

Behind her, he takes a deep breath and slowly releases it. "I'm fine," he says, his voice light again. "Couldn't be happier!"

"You sure?" She wiggles. "I bet you'd be a lot happier if you fucked all that anger into me. You know that helps," she practically sings. "You could take it out on me for being so mean. Be as rough as you like, sir, I promise I won't cry, I'm a big girl."

"Nice try, Gwen, but that won't work every time."

"You sure?" She snickers. "Worked pretty well the other night. You know, when you-"

"Alright!" David claps his hands together. "I'm gonna turn you over!"

"You're gonna what now?"

Hands close around her wrists, hauling her upright. She's pulled flush against his chest, and he makes no attempt to even pretend he's not hard as hell against her ass. "Listen. Gwen," he murmurs, too close to her ear. "I only have one bandanna. I can't tie you down and gag you at the same time. Work with me here, okay?"

She turns her head, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Fuck you."

"Uh huh."

His fingers pluck at the knot of her restraints, but before she has the chance to do anything with her newfound freedom he's moving her. He shifts her like she weighs nothing, flipping her onto her back, and she yelps, laughing as she hits the cushions. She tries to sit up but he pounces on her, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists on either side of her head with a toothy grin.

It's infectious. She smiles back.

He kisses her, more affectionate than anything she thought she'd get tonight. He's still her David, after all, and the guy's chemical makeup has to be like 78 percent love. For nature, usually, but for some reason she can't comprehend he seems to think she's just as good, if not better, than nature.

"Hey," she says, grinning against his mouth. "You know, if you want, I could fuck you." She arches her hips up against him, and he goes still. She lowers her voice. "Do you want that?"

He sighs, drawing himself back up. He won't look at her, pulling her wrists towards the headboard. She gives a cursory struggle, but she might as well be limp for how little difference it makes. He's thin, but even now David's strength catches her off guard sometimes. With one hand pinning both wrists, David picks up the bandana.

Once she's secured, David climbs off her. "Perfect," he smiles. She tests the restraint, smirking.

"Kinky."

He ignores her, pushing her knees upward and situating himself in between them. He tugs at her underwear, apparently done with them, and she lets him pull them down and off. Whatever gets him closer to breaking. He stretches out, laying on his stomach, his arms curled around her thighs.

"Oh, are you-? Uh, cool." She makes a face. "Just don't, y'know, force yourself. If you don't wanna."

David kisses the inside of her thigh. "I want to."

(She doesn't know if she quite believes him, but he's been more enthusiastic about eating her out than anyone else she's ever dated.)

She tips her head back as he swipes his tongue broadly over the length of her cunt with a soft sigh. Just like with the kissing, most of David's skill was enthusiasm the first time she ever let him do this, but either he's picked it up quickly or he's done his homework, because she could sit here for hours and let him do this.

Gently, his fingers spread her apart a little wider, and she can't help the twitch of her hips when his tongue dips just that little bit deeper before he switches focus to her clit.

"Jesus," she breathes, arching slightly against his mouth. She feels him smile.

This time, she doesn't mind slow. His languid, suckling kisses are just fine where they are. For a few minutes. Ten long, slow, unhurried minutes.

She wants to thread her fingers through his hair. Hold his head in place, rut against his tongue. She can't. "A little faster?" she quietly requests.

He pauses, looking up at her from beneath his eyelashes. "What was that?"

"Faster?"

"Is that a request, or a demand?"

"Both."

"Hm." He looks down again, lowering his mouth back to her cunt and continuing on with the same unhurried speed.

Gwen groans. "Come on." No response. "David..." He spares her a glance. With every ounce of willpower she has, Gwen squashes her pride. "...Please."

David lifts his head, beaming with pride. "There you go! Good girl!"

She rolls her eyes, her head tipping back with an exasperated huff. "Don't be a patronising prick," she mutters.

"You see where being nice can get you, Gwen?" He chuckles, leaning his weight on one elbow. The fingers of his other hand stroke gently down her curls before slipping inside.

She gasps, her hips bucking shakily. "Fuck, I didn't expect that-!" David makes a happy noise, the tip of his tongue flicking gently against her clit. "Not complaining, though," she adds, just in case. "I mean, that- that's, yeah. Good."

He moves faster than he had before, aiming carefully for the sweet spot he's so intimately familiar with. Her fingers twitch, curling and uncurling, looking for something to hold. Her eyes fall shut as she relaxes, losing herself to his fingers, his mouth. She needed this, needed it like a drowning man needs air but _hell_ if she was gonna admit that to him, not with the way he's been a smug asshole all evening.

He speeds up, just a little, and Gwen makes sure to sing his praise in every stuttering gasp she takes, in every breathy mewl she hates coming from her.

He draws back, tilting his head to rest against her while he catches his breath, panting breaths shivering across slick skin as his fingers keep moving. Only it's not him catching his breath, she realises, lifting her head to look at him. The tip of his tongue is held tightly between his teeth, his eyes screwed shut. His hips are rolling, subtle motions that grind him against the mattress in a sort of sync with his hoarse panting.

Heat of one kind hits her, then of another, and she grins wickedly. She knew it. Knew he'd break, knew he couldn't hold out. She watches him until he chances to look up, a brief flickering glance that instead turns into a locked gaze.

His fingers slow, and the smile that drops from her face somehow finds its way to his.

Normally, she holds the power in their balance so easily, sinks her claws in and bats him around with it. Right now, it's like trying to catch water in her fingers, dripping frustratingly through them and into David's.

She scrabbles for a foothold, pulling up her best sharp smirk. "Doing okay down there?"

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, looking them over before rolling onto his back, sticking them in his mouth. He tilts his head back to look at her. "I'm doing _just_ fine." The words are slightly muffled around his fingers, and he's not even bothering to hide the tent in his pyjama pants. Gwen rolls her eyes, quietly hoping for the small mercy that the warmth she feels in her face might not be visibly blooming across her cheeks.

David shuffles over, scooting up the bed to lie beside her, cuddling up to her and resting his head against her. The tip of his fringe brushes her jaw, and she tilts her head away. David sighs, melting against her like it's any other night, like they're cuddling together in this little single bed just to sleep.

He rests an arm across her stomach, slotting their legs together the way they've done a thousand times before. She can't relax, though, not with the hardness pressing against the side of her hip. It's a burning point of contact, only kept away from her by thin pyjama pants and stupid pine-print boxers. She holds her breath and swears she can feel him pulsing. Maybe she's imagining it, a kind of tiny fever dream just because she _wants_ it to be true.

"Aren't you...?" She trails off, and David makes a questioning noise, looking up at her. "I mean, aren't you uncomfortable? It's been a little while," she says, moving against him as best as she can to draw his attention to where hers already is. "Don't you need to come?"

He smiles, drawing lazy circles on her stomach. "I can handle it for now." His fingers walk up her front, gently cupping one of her breasts. He swipes a thumb over her nipple in a slow semicircle, watching her shiver, watching it pebble and perk up at his touch. "Do you ever edge yourself?" he asks casually, as if he's asking for her input on an activity.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean when we're not... when you're just by yourself," he clarifies, his tiptoeing language as endearing as it is annoying.

She thinks, and then shrugs. "I don't know. Not really, I guess."

"Hmm. I try to, sometimes. By myself, I mean. I can never seem to do it properly, though. You're so much better at doing it to me." He draws a circle around her perked nipple before gently rolling it between his fingers, and Gwen shudders. "You're good at drawing it out. Stopping at the worst moment. I mean, the best moment, I guess," he chuckles. "But I've never done it to you. And if you don't do it to yourself, do you actually know what it's like?" He switches to the other nipple, the one closest to him. "Do you actually know what you're putting me through?"

"You like it," she defends, her voice roughened. "You're the one who asks for it."

"I know, I know! You're right. It's my weakness. Anyway, I'm not going to do that to you tonight." Before she can remind herself not take that at face value, a knot in her lower stomach unravels. "No matter how much I beg, you don't let me finish. I'm not complaining, of course, that's part of it! But I just wanted to make sure you knew the difference. You can ignore my begging, but I won't ignore yours. That's all you gotta do!" He taps a finger lightly to the tip of her nose, and she considers biting it off. "Ask just nicely enough, and you'll get anything you want! If you don't want to, though," he shrugs, "I guess the only one who'd really be edging you is you."

She grits her teeth, staring at the foot of the bed like it insulted her. "So how long did you have _that_ little speech prepared for?"

David resettles his head against her chest. "Since around dinner."

"You were really thinking about this for that long?"

David laughs. "Oh, I never stopped! I'd like to think I'm at least halfway competent at multitasking. I managed to win that game, after all!"

"You were thinking about it all through the game?"

"Never stopped," he repeats. He leans forward, brushing his lips against her nipple, and fuck those things for being as sensitive as they are because she feels it all the way down her left side.

"So your entire pla-an hinges on me being stubborn?" she questions, powering past the break in her voice. David nods.

"Pretty much."

She grimaces. "Prick."

"Is it really that hard?" David shuffles closer, his nose brushing against her throat. "All you'd have to do ask nicely."

"But when you say ask nicely, I know you don't mean 'say please.'"

He chuckles. "Oh, not even close."

"That's what I thought. Fuck you."

"Not with that attitude!" he chirps, leaning up to her bedside table to pluck the little pink bullet from it cradle. She tenses up, watching him twist it between his fingers, but he doesn't turn it on. No, for a few seconds he just toys with it, using it like a pencil to trace whirly little designs on her stomach, on that ticklish spot beneath her ribs. Each little loop brings it closer and closer towards her cunt, little prickles of tension swooping through her. It brushes at last her curls, the soft tip ghosting over her clit, still swollen with that achey arousal that makes her want to press her legs together. She jolts, biting down on her tongue.

He doesn't turn it on. Not until he's done that a few times, dragged the smooth plastic on her oversensitive clit and enjoyed the little jolts it produces. But then he holds it against her and clicks the little button on the base.

Gwen swallows air in a gasping sob, eyes screwing shut. Her back arches up slightly, tilting her hips harder against the little toy.

David breathes out, insufferably satisfied, and Gwen doesn't miss the way his cock twitches against her. He clicks the button again, upping the vibration, and Gwen tries to close her mouth against the groan that rumbles in her chest, tearing out of her anyway. "Nnngh, _fuck,"_ she chokes out. Another twitch from David.

He nuzzles against her and holds the toy still while she trembles against it. She draws her knees closer, her toes flexing as she digs her heels into the bed and uses the leverage to try and press a little harder.

"You're doing beautiful," David murmurs into her skin. A breathless laugh bubbles out of her.

"Sssshhut up," she laughs, but there's no malice, just the giddy kind of embarrassment of being complimented.

He sighs her name, his hips presses harder to her side, and that does nothing to clear the haze of lust from her thoughts. She's hyperaware of each squirming movement he's making against her, halfway convinced she can almost pick out each individual vein through the fabric, feel them pulsing hotly. He must need it as badly as her, right? He must be suffering, she thinks, she _hopes_.

She arches higher, the combination of effort and pleasure making her tremble almost embarrassingly hard, but she doesn't have the brain capacity to devote to caring. She can feel it coming, feel the first tendril winding around her ankles like numb warmth and spreading up. It creeps closer, closer closer higher _almost-_

"Fffuck, fuck fuck _fuck-!"_

David turns the toy off.

Her reaction is instantaneous, rage given physical form as she practically thrashes, her hips snapping back to the mattress. Her hands curl tightly into fists, straining against the fabric. "Mother _fucker!"_ she growls, low and animal and dripping with pure, undistilled hatred. She arches again uselessly, like maybe if she can just _imagine_ the pressure enough it'll be there, like air is substantial enough to rut against.

David huffs a small laugh, pressing the flat of his hand just above her hipbone, coaxing her hips back to the bed, and it's ridiculous that even that small contact, mere inches from her cunt, should make her shudder.

She twists away, snarling. "Don't touch me, you fucking _asshole._  I hate you. I _fucking_ hate you."

He slides his hand over her hip. "That's a stronger reaction than I was expecting."

"You want a strong reaction? Untie me."

He almost looks like he's considering it for a moment. His tongue runs along the back of his teeth, then along his lower lip.

But he doesn't. His fingers flutter over her hip, exploring the skin, tracing over faded stretch marks with reverence. "I love you."

Gwen ignores him. She feels rather pettily like he doesn't deserve it right now. He already knows that she loves him, anyway.

He sits upright, moving back to sit in between her legs, and for a moment she thinks he's about to go down on her again. She presses her knees tightly together, watching him with a look that's like a dagger dripping poison. He tries to push them apart, and she resists with every ounce of fire.

David sighs, and his grip tightens. She's not as strong as him, can't stop him if he's truly determined, and he pushes her legs apart like it's nothing. She takes a quick breath, heat snapping through her. She loves when he's forceful, fucking loves it, but if she could just get that without the unending torture…

He hooks his thumbs into his waistband, dragging it down slowly enough that she's sure he means for her to watch. She couldn't look away if she wanted to. He's been so severely tenting those pyjamas for so long now, it almost winds her a little to finally actually _see_ his cock, hard and flushed at the head. Her hands clench. She's mad at him, unbelievably furious, but god help her, she wants to run her tongue along every pulsing vein and listen to him whimper.

He pushes forward.

But...

Not _in_.

No, instead, the length of his cock slides slickly against her, against her swollen clit, just grinding on her with a pressure that's nowhere near enough.

Gwen drops her head back to the pillow with noise that can only be described as devastated. "Of course," she hisses. "Of _fucking_ course. I'm going to kill you, Greenwood. They're going to find parts of you in the Quartermaster's cooking. I'm going to burn your fucking camp down with you in it. I'm going to drag you to the lake and hold you down until the bubbles stop."

David's little nervous laugh is music to her petty ears. "You really do terrify me sometimes," he admits. He sits back, his fingers dipping shallowly into her, gathering slickness on his fingertips that he spreads along his length. "But I'm pretty confident in my knot-tying, so at least I know I'm safe for now, right?"

"I could kick you."

"Please don't."

He keeps his left hand on the underside of her thigh, just beneath her knee, pushing it up to keep her open. His other hand repositions himself on her, his thumb pushing lightly on the top of his cock, holding him harder against her. He rolls his hips forward. He's blood hot, incredibly hard, and as ready as Gwen is to tear his head off, she shudders. She's encouraged him so many times before to do this. Not to smugly edge her; just what he's doing now, rutting against her purely for his own pleasure. It's not instinctive for him to take like that, but whenever he does he unravels in a way she could watch a thousand times over, and sometimes it's almost enough to get her there, too.

His eyes fall to half mast, intently trained on himself. He's watching, watching his own pale, flushed cock rutting slickly against her darker skin. He's mentioned before, once or twice, how much he likes the contrast between them. She kinda does too.

His breathing is picking up. That gorgeous red blush is spreading, burning at the tips of his ears and over his chest. "Hh- ha..."

It hurts. The pressure on her clit is good, it's wonderful, but it actually almost _hurts_ that he's moving like that and she doesn't get to feel him pressing inside her.

She lifts her hips, trying to tilt them like she can trick him into slipping inside. "David, come on," she mutters. "It's right there."

He hunches forward, supporting himself with a hand on the headboard, his head hanging beside hers. His breathing is louder like this, rough and stuttering.

Her cheek brushes his ear as she turns her head slightly. "David," she hums. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" He doesn't reply. "It's right there," she repeats. "I don't even need prep. All you gotta do is slide in, okay?" She knows he hears her. He twitches. She turns her head a little more, brushing her lips across the shell of his ear. "You can go as hard as you want," she murmurs. "It'd feel good, right? You felt how wet I am. You know I could take it, sir."

She's playing dirty, but playing clean was thrown out the window the moment there was a binding around her wrists. Playing clean was out the moment she wrapped her fingers around him in the mess hall. David makes a noise, a choked whine that she feels in the soles of her feet.

"Come on," she growls. "Come on, come _on_. You can even come inside me, you know you can. You can fill me up, sir. You like watching it drip out of me, don't you?"

David's fingers nearly tear through the flimsy sheets beneath them. "Gwen-" he gasps. Her heart is racing. Her skin prickles.

She nips gently at his ear, just enough to draw another shudder from him. "Anything, sir."

He bucks forward and stays there, his entire body going taut and trembling, his breathing going silent, frozen in his chest. Warmth drips over her stomach, and with it cold understanding crackles through her.

She...

She _had_ him.

She thought she had him, she was so _sure_.

David's shoulders slump, the breath he'd been holding escaping him in a rush. Languidly, he draws back to sit on his heels, and Gwen looks down at the splattering of white across her stomach. As she watches, some of it drips down the curve of her side. She looks up at him, her expression a raw mixture of shock, disbelief, incredulity.

He leans forward, pecking her on the check. "Thanks for your help," he smiles. His voice is still husky, his breathing still uneven. "I'll be right back. I'm going to grab a towel." He climbs off the bed, strolling to the little bathroom with his fingers brushing through his hair.

She stays still until he returns. She stays still while he cleans her off, tossing the little towel into the corner when he's done.

He sighs, an air of contentment surrounding him. "That's so much better. Now I can actually _think!"_ He beams at her, bright and wide and completely remorseless.

The smile falters.

"Gwen? Are you okay?" He reaches forward, hesitating for a moment. She blinks. "Is something wrong?" He looks worried, and she just can't fucking _believe_ him.

"David." He jumps. "I'm not upset." Her voice is level, low and dangerous. "I'm. Fucking. _Furious."_

David relaxes a little, his smile sheepish. "O- oh. Yeah, you... you must be."

"Mm hm."

He looks down, twisting his fingers together. But then he stops, looking back at her. The sheepishness is gone, his brows knitting together. "Well... good."

"Excuse me?"

"Y- you heard me." He draws himself up slightly. "You can be mad. I don't care. You took this bet, and you could've stopped it at any time." He seems to gain confidence with every word, fire sparking in his eyes and on his tongue. "This is- I _owed_ you this. For every single time you've messed with me in- in the broom closet or the cabin, or _anywhere_ \- in the middle of an activity and left me there. You were going to do that to me earlier, weren't you? At lunch, you wouldn't go faster. You were going to leave me to suffer, because you think it's _funny."_ He looms over her, leaning both hands on the headboard. "So maybe I think _this_ is a little funny. Maybe, for once, I'm having fun torturing _you_ . You know my favorite part, though? You can stop it at any time! The power is still in your hands, Gwen! But you won't!" He knocks his forehead lightly against hers. "Because you're stubborn. But you know, I can be stubborn too. There's two ways out of this. Either you safeword, or you swallow that pride and _grovel_ ," he growls. His chest is heaving, and she swears she can almost hear his heart racing.

Gwen swallows. "Holy shit." Her voice is weak, the fight drained out of it.

David sits back. "Yeah. So. Um... yeah."

They stare at each other.

Gwen licks her lips. "That was really hot."

The smile returns to his face. "What? Really?"

"Yeah. You're almost never that mad, and it's usually at Max."

David seems relieved. "I was worried I went too far." A few silent moments pass. "So..."

"I'm thinking," she says, looking away. She... wants to come. Her entire lower half still feels like she's melting into a puddle. But the command for "beg" seems to be missing from her directory, and she wants to safeword even less than she wants to beg.

She groans, fidgeting.

"Need some help?" David asks. She shakes her head.

"Whatever you define as help right now, I don't want it."

His smile darkens. "That's okay. It's mandatory."

He picks up the little pink bullet.

She snaps her legs shut. "No, no no no, don't do that again."

He pushes them apart easily, still grinning. His fringe is drooping, beginning to get in his eyes, and he flicks it out of the way with a toss of his head that Gwen hates to admit was adorable and kinda hot.

He wastes no time pressing the bullet to her clit and turning it on. The noise that escapes her is mortifying, and her muscles go lax. "Christ, I hate you," she hisses under her breath.

David chuckles. "No, you don't."

Maybe she can beat him at his own game. Right now, there's no point in trying to play off his arousal, not after he spilled it all over her stomach. It'll be at least another few minutes before he starts to get hard again.

So she relaxes. She takes deep breaths, arches her hips up, and closes her eyes. He's not half bad wielding that little weapon. She gave him a crash course on how and where to hold it when they first fucked, and he never seemed to need a reminder.

She's so wound up, it's barely two minutes before she's already getting close, the muscles in her legs tightening. She focuses on her breathing, on keeping it as level as she can. It's barrelling towards her with the grace of a derailed train, but she just keeps her focus on breathing.

_Nice and slow, pretend you're fine, and you can- fucking- finally-!_

Without warning, David snatches the toy away, and Gwen snarls mournfully. "How the fuck did you know?!"

David smiles. "You nearly got me there! I almost didn't stop in time!"

"How were you able to?" she asks again, gaping at him. "I didn't give you, like, _any_ signs!"

"Yes you did!"

"What? What the fuck were they?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that. You might try and hide them next time!"

She almost whimpers. "Next time?"

"I'll give you a minute to cool down," he soothes, patting her thigh. He leans forward, hovering over her and dipping his head to try and press his mouth to hers. She turns her head, pouting. "Aw, come on," he murmurs.

She wrinkles her nose. "No. I don't kiss assholes." David laughs and switches to her throat, mouthing gently at her weakest points. He lightly scrapes his teeth across her pulse point and she shivers. "This isn't helping me cool down."

"It's helping _me."_ He shifts his hips, and she can feel through his pyjama pants he's already starting to get hard again.

"You got plans?"

He places three kisses in slow succession down the side of her throat. "Well, I've got hope." He pauses, sitting up. "Are you thirsty?"

"What? Uh, sure, I guess."

"I'm really thirsty. I'm going to get us a drink, okay?"

He hops off the bed, scooping up his drink bottle from the desk and disappearing into the bathroom. Gwen eyes the little pink bullet and calculates her chances of somehow using her feet to get it over to her and turn it on. Probably low, considering David's already back.

He trots over to her side, waving the bottle. "Open!"

She tilts her head up, her mouth opening slightly. David pours a small amount in and she swallows it gratefully. "Thanks."

"Of course! Hey, how are your wrists? I didn't tie that too tight, did it?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Actually, if you could just make it looser. Like, all the way loose."

"Very clever." He gives her another few mouthfuls of water and chugs the rest. "Alright! That's cool enough, hm? Let's pick it back up!"

He retakes his place between her legs, and within moments Gwen's enduring another round of torture.

"How many times are you gonna do that?" she gripes.

"As many times as it takes, Gwen."

"Jesus."

Even with the break, she's a quick shot. Two minutes, maximum, and David's pulling it away again. A few sobbing, frustrated breaths, a minute to cool down, and repeat. He's methodical, and after the fourth one she's starting to consider actually kicking him. He could still fuck her with broken ribs, right?

"It's really not taking much, is it?" he observes, smirking.

Gwen bares her teeth. "It's a fucking vibrator. They're not designed for slow and steady."

"Hm..." He considers the little toy before reaching up to place it back in the charging cradle.

"What are you doing?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. David shrugs.

"Well, if you're that sensitive, maybe I should give you a break from it!"

"Where the fuck is this logic coming from?"

"I don't know. Maybe the same place as your logic that you can just sit there and sulk and you'll get what you want?"

"Eat shit. I'm fine."

He arranges himself over her, half-laying on her with most of his weight on an elbow beside her. He nuzzles against her throat, the flat of his other hand gently pressing over her cunt. "This should do just fine." His fingers draw over her, dipping in just enough to feel the ridiculous amount of slickness. He trails up to her clit, and she jolts. "Gosh, Gwen. You're really... hard. Wow."

She grimaces. "Shut it."

"I'm not making fun of you! It's, uh, it's..." He grinds the outline of his cock against her hip. "Y'know?"

He rubs quick, tight little circles on her, and it takes almost twice as long as her vibrator but that's still only a few minutes. She squirms against him, the cracks in her defence showing through in the tiny gasps of "K- keep going, right there, that's perfect-"

But another two times his hand goes still before she can get there.

What breaks her isn't the seemingly endless edging. What breaks her isn't the way his fingers push into her while he's waiting for her to cool down, the brief brush against her g-spot.

What breaks her is David's gentle little sigh. The faint, mumbled words, like he's just thinking out loud to himself. "I- I really wish... I want to be in- inside you."

"Fuck," she nearly sobs, and her throat feels tight. "Fuck, _fine.”_

Because she needs it too. She needs it more than she needs her paltry self respect, more than she needs to feel like the winner.

David goes still.

"Please, okay?" she snarls, her voice too tremulous to be intimidating. " _Please_ , just, I- I really can't fucking take this anymore, it feels like it's been _hours._  I'll say anything you goddamn want, I don't care anymore! I'll- I'll call you whatever you like, sir or Mr. Greenwood or fucking _daddy_ if that's what you want but I need something inside me and I nnnn _need_ it to be you, okay?" She breaks off, gasping for breath, and screws her eyes shut.

For a moment all she hears is David's shallow breathing. Then, quietly, one word. "Wow."

"Please," she begs weakly, and even to herself she sounds more pathetic than she does mid-breakdown.

He sits up, glancing at the bedside table. "Do we need-"

"We don't need a fucking thing except for you to get the fuck inside me before I cry."

That answers the question pretty thoroughly. The smug deliberateness in David's movements is gone. He shoves his pyjamas down hastily, kneeling between her legs and pushing them up.

She holds her breath when the blunt shape of his head rests against her, and when he finally, _finally_ moves forward she doesn't make an ounce of effort to stifle the wretched, relieved moan that tears out of her. "Don't- don't start slow," she gasps, winding her legs around his waist. "Please, not right now."

"Right," he breathes. He draws back a few inches and snaps forward.

"Fffuck," she groans, tipping her head back as his hips meet hers with enough force to jolt her. "You're gonna fucking _kill me."_ He offers no reply, his head falling forward and his eyes dropping to a hazy half-mast he directs towards their point of connection. He's watching, watching the way he disappears inside her with every buck. She'd watch too, if she had any power left to hold her head up.

He curls forward over her, his gaze switching to her chest, the way her breasts move every time he fills her. "One- m- more- thing-" he grunts in between thrusts.

"What is it?" she manages. "Fuck, keep going and I'll sssay whatever you want."

"I want an apology," he pants, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. "For- lunch. Doing that to- to me."

She looks away, her voice going quieter. "Fine, I'm... sorry."

"You were gonna leave me like that," he pants, "weren't you?" She nods. David shakes his head, a breathless chuckling coming from him. "I knew it. You're evil."

"So are you," she defends.

"I could never h- hhhope to be as truly awful as you, sweetheart," he replies hoarsely. His eyes screw shut again, apparently done with talking, and his teeth grit together as he forces more strength into the movements of his hips. She's going to be sore tomorrow, she's going to fucking ache like she's _under the weather_ but if he slowed down now she might start crying.

She loses track of the time. It could be a few minutes, it could be forever. "I'm really not gonna hold out long," she warns him, tightening her legs around his waist. "B- but you can keep going if I finish first, okay?"

"Thank you," he grunts. His fingernails are digging sharply into her hips, tugging her harshly against him like he isn't already practically bruising her insides. "Do you need help?"

"Y- yeah, fuck, please touch me."

With frenzied, shaking fingers, David toys with her clit, rubbing at it maybe a little too roughly but right now she's desperate enough that she'd get on her knees just for that.

It's impressive she holds out the thirty seconds that she does.

She has enough mindfulness left to remember to warn him. Not that he wouldn't have figured it out from the way she's arching, or the way her moans are spiraling embarrassingly upward. "Close," she gasps, and that's all she has time for before the breath is robbed from her lungs.

David's hips press to hers and stay there, his fingers still working her over, through each body-shaking wave that hits her. With the tiny part of her still capable of thought, she wonders if he's coming, but it's not right, she can't feel it inside her.

Slowly, it starts to lessen, and she shivers through aftershocks that bounce inside her back and forth like ripples in a pond, weakening with each wave. The paralysing grip on her muscles lessens, and she melts against him.

After a moment he starts moving again. It takes her a moment to realize why he stopped. He wasn't done, not at all. He just stopped to _feel,_  to pay careful attention to the fluttering pulses of her cunt, tightening in waves around him.

 _Fuck_ , she mouths, staring at him. He's not paying attention to her face. His eyes are shut, his mouth slightly open, taking gasping breaths. He must be close. She could help.

"Thank you, sir," she sighs, and his next thrust stutters. "Thank you so much."

He makes a noise, low and a little broken, and she smiles. She can definitely use that handy dandy little praise kink of his. She's in a good mood.

"I needed that so badly," she hums. "So fucking bad." It's a little cliche, maybe, a little too hetero-porn, but apparently it's different if it's her, because David's answering whine is almost shameful. "You fucked me so good," she murmurs through a sleazy, tired grin. _"Sir."_ He gasps something, too quick and low. "Say again?"

"Keep talking," he repeats breathlessly. "Nnneed it, close, please."

She snickers. "Anything you want, sir. I'm yours, right? I belong to you. I'll do whatever you want." Well, now she's just lying, but… heat of the moment. "Please, ah... come inside me?" she asks, trying to sound sweet. "I really want it."

"Yes," he hisses, "yesyesyes _yes-"_ She's not sure if he's answering her question or just really happy about things in general. "F- fuck, Gwen, I'm- _ssssshit-!"_

He curves forward, his hair almost brushing her collarbone. He's frozen, shaking, and now she feels it. Feels him pulsing, twitching almost violently against her insides.

"Thank you," he chokes out faintly as the pulses weaken. "Thank you, thank you, I love you I _love you-"_

A few more trembling seconds and he's wrung dry. He collapses on her, still inside, skin fiery hot and faintly slick with sweat against hers. She likes the weight and the warmth. "Hey," she nudges. "Untie me before you're totally dead."

He rolls slightly sideways to look up, reaching up with one hand to quickly untie the knot. Her hands slip free, and his falls back to rest on her chest. She stretches her arms out and then curls them around him, sighing.

"Thank you," he mumbles, muffled by the fact that his mouth is half pressed to her skin. She just tightens her hold on him, resting her chin on his head.

She strokes a hand down his spine and he shivers. "I love you, too." David hums happily, snuggling closer. "But," she adds, "I'm gonna kick your ass for this later."

David gives a sleepy, satisfied sigh. "Looking forward to it."

**Author's Note:**

> David has a petty, competitive streak a mile wide, in this essay I will
> 
> You know i love hearing your comments, my loves! (And please don't forget the names Greenwood and Santos were created by our very own forestwater (or forestwater87 on tumblr)!)


End file.
